“Evelyn, thank you. You brought my son home sooner than I expected.” He patted Bruce’s shoulder with pride. “If I hadn’t pulled that prank, he wouldn’t have shown up.”

I forced a smile. “I’m glad it worked out.”

I was partly ashamed I was tricked by those two but what do I do? I needed money and to get that I had to play along till I got it and make my walk out of the mansion easier.

Resting the burdens on myself made me realize it was better. I couldn't let my mum get married to someone else, and I wouldn't be comfortable in my own house or rather the new house. I was going to let her marry someone else, but I was glad I got a good deal to clear it off and she'll cancel the dinner she was thinking of, or even cancel the god forsaken marriage that wouldn't do me any good.

I took a glance at Mr Roccaforte as he looked so proud of Bruce, he gestured toward the dining room. “Come, let’s have a meal. It’s been too long since I had company I actually enjoy.”

Bruce's cold eyes met mine. He aggressively pulled me back and whispered, “You got what you wanted,” he muttered. “You can leave now. If you stay too long, my father would find something to pull again. And I wouldn't have you on my neck, you know that.”

My blood boiled. “Really? You’re going to act like this now? And I'm definitely not on your neck Mister.” I stepped closer, keeping my voice low. “I begged you to show up. I even swallowed my pride for this and you're what? Making it seem like I'm doing it all wrong? If you do that, at least stop pretending you don’t recognize me.”

He went silent. His jaw tightened. “Didn’t know you still had that feisty side,” he muttered. “I thought you lost all that the minute money came into the picture.”

I stared at him, stunned. “You think I’m here for the money?”

“You tell me.”

I scoffed. “Why didn’t you ever use your real name in Canada? Why pretend to be someone else? It would have been easier if I knew it was you. I wouldn't accept the offer to bring you here in the first place. What kind of a son are you, for your dad to pull such a prank and offer a quarter of his riches?”

“What? Quarter? You know, that’s none of your business,” he snapped. “Take whatever my father promised and leave. He knows already we're pretending to date.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but my phone buzzed. A message from Mom.

“Two more days. Hope you’re getting ready to meet your new father.”

New father. The irony would’ve made me laugh if I wasn’t seconds away from screaming.

“You both should come in. My legs are sore.” Mr Roccaforte complained. Bruce had no choice but to let go.

I shoved my phone back in my bag and followed Bruce into the dining room. Mr. Roccaforte sat at the head of the table, beaming at both of us.

“You’re his girlfriend,” he said to me. “I haven't seen him with any lady before, not even close enough to bring them home and he just decided to bring you home? It's a shame I've met you before. He probably saw the same thing I did.”

I didn't know how to feel, smile? Or feel haunted?

You should prepare him something. Show me you can be part of the family.” he added.

I hesitated. “It’s… it’s not real,” I said carefully. “This girlfriend thing, it’s just pretend. I'm sure you know that now.”

Bruce shot me a glare, but I raised my hands. “Don’t look at me like that. Your dad knows we’re both lying. He’s the king of manipulation, you think he can’t spot one of his own tricks?”

My Roccaforte chuckled.

Bruce leaned closer. “If I don’t find a real girlfriend soon,” he whispered, “he’ll set me up with someone I can’t stand. Again.”

“Then go find one,” I hissed. “Stop hiding like you’re some mystery novel character.”

“Fine. Find me one. If you're so concerned about my family’s business.” he shot back.

I blinked. “Me?”

“You just seem to enjoy meddling.”

I laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

Before we could go any further, Mr. Roccaforte cleared his throat. “Are you two done flirting?”

Bruce groaned. “We’re not flirting.”

His father leaned forward. “My son needs a strong woman beside him. One who’ll help keep the Roccaforte legacy alive. Someone who can give him an heir and not just let him waste his life playing hockey.”

I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. The heir talk, the business empire, it was like being in a live soap opera. Bruce’s glare burned into my skin again.

“Relax,” I muttered. “Your dad’s got jokes.”

Before he could reply, the double doors opened.

A woman walked in, all grace and expensive perfume. She rushed to Mr. Roccaforte and hugged him with familiarity. I barely glanced her way, until she turned around.

My breath stopped as my gaze fell on her. “Mum?” I whispered.

She blinked. “Evelyn?”

We both stared at each other like ghosts. “What… what are you doing here?” she asked, stepping back. “How did you meet Richard already? We were supposed to all have dinner together on Saturday. Why are you here?”

“I…” My voice broke. “You’re marrying… him?”

Her eyes softened. “He told me a girl's coming. I didn’t know you were the girl he hired.”

I felt the air choke out of my lungs. Bruce looked between us, realization dawning in his eyes. He rubbed a hand over his face. He was probably out of it too and didn't realize I had so much to take in. Mr Roccaforte only stared and never had an ounce of disbelief on his face.

I couldn’t take it. I turned, bolted out the door, and didn’t stop running until I hit the cold air outside.

Tears dropped down my thin choke

How did my life turn into this kind of chaos?

I couldn’t sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes, all I could think about

was how I was supposed to act like the girlfriend of the most famous hockey player in the country, who also happened to be my one-night stand from four years ago, and make it believable in front of his father.

No pressure, right?

I kept practicing in the mirror. “Bruce, stop being annoying.” Too harsh. “Honey, should we go?” Too fake. “Babe…” God, no. Absolutely not.

Dealing with rich people meant being composed, poised. They could smell uncertainty like blood. And now that I got this insane opportunity without even fully earning it, I had to make sure I didn’t lose it.

I slipped into one of the outfits I’d picked during my mini shopping spree. Light purple flare trousers that hugged just right, paired with a crisp white turtleneck. I layered it with a long beige jacket that gave me a professional touch and set my black heels beside the bed, ready. I even tied my curls up into a neat bun and put on a little gloss. Not too much. Just enough to look clean and sharp.

I guess I must’ve fallen asleep on my laptop while checking up articles on fake dating etiquette, yes, that’s a thing because the sun on my face and the blaring 7:30 a.m. timeon my screen jolted me straight into panic mode.

“Shit!”

I bolted out of bed, threw on my clothes, grabbed my tiny purse and rushed outside, almost forgetting my phone.

To my utter shock, the sleek white car was already there, parked right outside my gate like some royal escort.

Ian, Bruce’s manager, stepped out casually, not even looking annoyed. “Good morning, Miss Evelyn.”

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I blurted out, panting. “I lost track of, well, I overslept.”

He gave me a small smile. “Mr. Bruce is waiting. Please get in.”

I hesitated for half a second. He was in the car?

I opened the back door and there he was. A black shirt rolled up to his elbows, dark jeans, and a clean expensive-looking watch. His gaze was on his phone, and he didn’t bother to look up. He probably didn't recognize me. He wasn't pretending, was he?

I sat, then he turned.

“Did you sleep at all?” he asked, eyes flicking up to meet mine.

“Of course I did,” I lied quickly, trying to sound awake and confident.

His gaze narrowed slightly. “Your eyes are swollen.”

My hand flew up to my face instinctively.

“But,” he added, “you look stunning.”

I blinked. It wasn’t even what he said, it was how he said it. Straightforward with no smirk. No teasing tone. Just… a compliment, clean and clear.

I gave a nervous smile. “Thanks.”

The air in the car was strange. Not tense, not exactly awkward. Just… full. Like both of us were thinking about the past, pretending not to.

As the car pulled off, I glanced out the window, heart racing, not from the compliment. Not from the nerves of pretending to be his girlfriend. But because something in Bruce’s presence made it hard to tell what was real.

The car ride to the Roccaforte house was quiet, save for the occasional buzz of Bruce’s phone. I couldn’t get comfortable, sitting there with a fake calm while my stomach twisted in anxiety. I was about to walk into the home of the man who promised me half his properties in exchange for bringing the best hockey player to his house.

When we pulled into the estate, my jaw dropped. The mansion was even more breathtaking in person. A sprawling masterpiece of marble, glass, and manicured hedges. Everything screamed power. No wonder Mr. Roccaforte could casually throw 50 million dollars at me like spare change.

Ian opened the door and I stepped out, heels clicking softly against the driveway. Bruce came around the car, and walked beside me without a word.

The moment we stepped into the house, there he was, Mr. Roccaforte himself. Tall, broad-shouldered, in an expensive robe with a cigar in one hand and that same charmingly dangerous smile on his face.

“Bruce!” he beamed.

To my utter shock, he pulled Bruce into a hug like they’d been best friends for years. Bruce didn’t even flinch. He smirked slightly and hugged him back.

So they did know each other?

Before I could fully process that, Bruce casually wrapped an arm around me and said, “Dad, meet Evelyn. My girlfriend.”

I blinked. What?

Mr. Roccaforte raised a brow, lips curled in surprise. “Your what?”

Bruce pulled me a bit closer, and I stood there frozen. “My girlfriend, Dad. So you can stop with the blind dates. She’s the only one I’m bringing home.”

There was a heavy pause. Then laughter. Loud, hearty, mocking laughter.

Mr. Roccaforte laughed like we were the punchline of a bad sitcom. I felt humiliated. The urge to shrink into the marble floor was strong.

He finally waved Bruce aside. “Come, son. Let’s talk.”

As they stepped into the corner of the massive living room, I stood there, trying to pretend I didn’t just hear that laugh or the ‘son’ echo in my skull.

“Did you know she was here because of me?” his father asked, not even trying to lower his voice.

Bruce shrugged. “So what? You always play dirty to get me home.”

“You still fell for it.”

“The only reason I came back is because you faked a terminal illness, again. Said you had six months left and wanted us to bond before the reaper showed up.”

I stifled a laugh, but it escaped as a quiet chuckle. They both turned to look at me.

Bruce arched his brow. “What’s funny?”

“In one word,” I said, folding my arms, “you both made a fool of me?”

Bruce shrugged, completely unapologetic. “It’s not like you weren’t getting paid.”

Well that was rude.

Rves

Three days later, I arrived at Pearlview Hotel, my nerves buzzing like static.

The manager, a stiff guy named Ian, met me at the lobby. “He is unavailable at the moment. I’ll conduct the interview instead.”

I blinked. “No. I came to speak with him. Not his manager.”

“Well, he’s busy.”

“I’m not leaving without speaking to him.” I argued.

Ian’s jaw clenched. “Miss…”

“Leave her be, Ian.”

I froze. I was staring at him. The same guy who’d kissed me breathless behind the stadium. The one who whispered my name like a secret and disappeared before sunrise. My one-night stand.

Bruce. Holy hell. Bruce was a famous hockey player? My college crush?

I felt like the air had been punched out of my lungs. My jaw dropped, but no words came out. I stood there gaping like an idiot while he leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed and his eye brow tilted up.

He looked amusing but what more do I have to entertain? The fact that he was surprised to see me but pretended not to?

"Are you coming in or should I cancel the meeting?" His voice sliced through the awkwardness in the air.

I blinked hard, forcing my brain to reboot. “Y-Yes. Of course.”

I rushed in, gripping my bag tightly, my heels clicking way too loud on the hotel’s marble floor. The suite was massive, of course it was but I didn’t even have time to gawk. He was already settling into a chair, motioning to the seat across from him.

"So," he said, "why so desperate to talk to me?"

I swallowed. My heart beating fast and my eyes finding a permanent place to land while I talked.

I was staring at Bruce! How could he be so still and focused?

My head ran through the way he touched me four years ago, still fresh in my memory. He was the first and the last person I've slept with.

“Are you going to say something? You keep staring at me.” He asked, waving his hands dismissively towards the door. Ian got the point and went out the door.

Bruce coughed, “Go on. I figured you might have anxiety around people you're not familiar with.”

What was that supposed to mean?

I tried to mutter courage and ease the fear in my chest. Was it fear? Or excitement that the person I badly craved for was standing right in front of me.

“I’m sorry, I just had a lot going on but I’ll tell you everything, I promise. But only if you help me.” I managed to say.

His brow lifted slightly. “Help you how?”

“I just… I need you to come with me to meet someone. Please. My job is on the line. My future is on the line. Not all of us have millions to fall back on.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Wow. You sure know how to measure your words.” He stood up and paced around my chair.

“I didn’t mean it as an insult,” I said quickly. “I’m just trying to be honest.”

God! I was hurling stupid words. I had to get it together but I couldn't. I didn't know why I was speaking so roughly. The fact that my one night stand was sitting opposite me after four years? Or the tension of the… Gosh! I was losing my mind.

He tilted his head, studying me. “Go on.”

I sighed and began, “My boss was going to fire me, but then this man offered me a deal. If I can bring you to meet him, he’s going to give me a chance to retrace my job better. A chance to build my life again. I'm working tirelessly for my boss but he's not giving me any reason to keep working.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Who’s this man’?”

“One sec.”

I didn’t hesitate. I pulled out my phone, dialed the number, and put the call on speaker.

It rang once before a deep voice answered. “Hi, Miss Eve. Have you convinced him?”

“Yes, sir. He’s here with me,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “Shall we come to the mansion?”

“The Roccaforte Mansion,” the man replied. “Tomorrow. Noon.”

I ended the call.

But when I looked up, Bruce’s face had changed. His jaw was set tight, his eyes colder than I’d ever seen them. Bitterness practically rolled off him.

“Who was that man?” He asked.

I stood up and maintained the same height as him. “The man who gave the offer? He is the one who wants to see you.”

“Wow. Get out,” he said sharply. Those soft eyes he stared earlier were shifted into something more aggressive.

My heart sank. “Please. No, just listen…”

“I said, get out.”

I dropped to my knees before I even thought about about it. “Please. I’ll do anything. Just this once, just help me.”

He looked at me like I was absolutely pathetic. And maybe I was. But I didn’t care. If it meant getting that deal… if it meant finally building the company I dreamed of… I’d beg a thousand times.

This was about my dream of being a real reporter, respected, with my own platform someday. And blogging has only gotten me so far. This? This deal with Bruce, if it worked, could be the key that unlocked every closed door.

He stared down at me like he was trying to figure me out. His jaw clenched, like he thought about it a million times in his head within a second. “Meet me here tomorrow morning. 7 a.m. sharp.”

I looked up, hope bubbling in my chest. “You’ll come with me?”

“I’ll come,” he said calmly, “on one condition.”

My heart sank again. “What condition?”

“You’ll pretend to be my girlfriend this weekend at my father’s house.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

He leaned back against the table, arms crossed, his eyes watching for a reaction. “It’s not rocket science. You want me to play along with your job? Then you’ll play along with mine.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I scoffed. “Why not choose someone else? A model, an actress, hell, anyone but me.”

“I chose you,” he said, his voice low and final. “Take it or leave it.”

I opened my mouth to protest again, but I stopped. If I said no, that was it. No Roccaforte mansion. No deal. No fresh start.

“Fine,” I muttered. “I’ll do it.”

A small, smug smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He moved closer and pulled a strand of my hair to the back, “It's nice to see you again.”

I stood still, glaring. I had no use for Bruce anymore. I just needed him to get to the Roccaforte Mansion.

He called for Ian, “Ian, take her home.”

I stood up, still processing the insane turn of events, and walked toward the door. But before I could step out, his voice stopped me.

“Hey…You don't have to pick a dress yourself tomorrow. Ian would bring it along.”

I glanced back. “Umm…alright.”

He nodded slowly, like he was filing it away.

The car ride was silent, and when I got out, Ian handed me an envelope through the window without saying a word. I thanked him quietly, then watched as he drove off into the night.

Inside, I dropped onto my bed and opened the envelope. A neat card slid out with an address on it.

It was the same address Mr. Roccaforte had given me. The mansion. I laughed under my breath. They couldn't live in the same house right?